My thoughts, precisely.https://aforgottenmuse.wordpress.com
Nitwit. Blubber. Oddment. Tweak.Wed, 13 Dec 2017 03:25:06 +0000enhourly1http://wordpress.com/https://secure.gravatar.com/blavatar/85ddad1c85f0e141c231f17e27e6f9ff?s=96&d=https%3A%2F%2Fs2.wp.com%2Fi%2Fbuttonw-com.pngMy thoughts, precisely.https://aforgottenmuse.wordpress.com
Rant No. 3: I Thought We Were Friends…https://aforgottenmuse.wordpress.com/2017/08/11/rant-no-3-i-thought-we-were-friends/
https://aforgottenmuse.wordpress.com/2017/08/11/rant-no-3-i-thought-we-were-friends/#respondFri, 11 Aug 2017 06:50:09 +0000http://aforgottenmuse.wordpress.com/?p=1303]]>People change, as we’ve been told most of our lives. The friends you have today may not remember you in 5 years. I firmly believe that people don’t really change; they just become more assertive expressions of their true selves, making you question if you ever even knew them at all.

But what are human beings if not wandering moths drawn to the light of company, only to be burnt to a crisp when they get too close.

College friends are a particularly special breed. They’re part of a lot of “firsts”: your first drink, first hangover, first job, first rejection, first Tinder hookup, first Goa trip(if you’re lucky). Naturally, they take up a certain importance associated with this sense of shared novelty. You have a group of weirdos that adore each other. You may not take a bullet for them but you’d definitely take that extra shot(or five). Together, you can conquer the world. Together, you are the coolest group of people that ever existed.

Then the inevitable happens: college ends. Everyone drifts, and it takes a while to fathom just how much. They drift to different cities, countries, continents; to different interests, and finally different people. Your invincible gang is reduced to a whatsapp group for stale memes. Fragments emerge from the ashes; everyone finds the ones easiest to “chill” with. Small lifeboats row away in different directions from the sinking ship, and soon your awesome shared vessel is a relic at the bottom of the ocean.

Your little lifeboat crew is the people who chose to stick together when things got tough. Now that you have to go further than just a different classroom/cafeteria, the divide becomes apparent and the people start filtering out. Soon you’re left with only those that were too thick to pass through the sieve.

And in the end, it’s all about the people who stay.

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]]>https://aforgottenmuse.wordpress.com/2017/08/11/rant-no-3-i-thought-we-were-friends/feed/01-PQl5y-Orrg7_xozeRXfGLQcrazydoglady0502Rant No. 2: I Can’t Even…https://aforgottenmuse.wordpress.com/2017/08/11/rant-no-2-i-cant-even/
https://aforgottenmuse.wordpress.com/2017/08/11/rant-no-2-i-cant-even/#respondFri, 11 Aug 2017 06:46:26 +0000http://aforgottenmuse.wordpress.com/?p=1295]]>You know how they told us post-college life sucks and we laughed it all off? Well, they were right.

~ Summer of 2016 ~

I sit staring outside my window, looking fondly at the rain waltzing with the wind. I have 3 tabs open on my browser — work, work, Amazon. Like most good desi kids, I graduated from an engineering college with a job and began my adult working life in a city far from home. The workplace seemed promising, the new city a welcome change, and life seemed to finally be going somewhere.

I take another gulp of black coffee. Like most good young engineers, I’ve quit my job. I’m giving the GRE(again). Apart from grad school applications, I have no idea what I’m going to be doing 2 months from now. I can hear my world coming to a screeching halt as the hands of my anxiety tighten their steely grip…

Breathe, I remind myself. All is not lost.

Yet.

First, it was all about finding a job before college ended because the alternative was terrifying. Then it became about settling and sticking to it, telling yourself it’s okay and all jobs suck and that you could use the money. So you stuck on, stumbling through a maze of assignments and performance reviews. Suddenly, you were surrounded by days of absolute bewilderment; of wondering if it was worth it and how(if) it was in line with your personal goals.

Now, you’re back to square one; to judging and questioning your self worth until you’re on a payroll, AGAIN.

The cycle repeats itself and reminds us that, for the larger part, we are seen for nothing more than our employability.

]]>https://aforgottenmuse.wordpress.com/2017/08/11/rant-no-2-i-cant-even/feed/01-k793zWoH_1li7TRvKoJPpQcrazydoglady0502Rant No. 1: The Fresh Graduatehttps://aforgottenmuse.wordpress.com/2017/08/11/rant-no-1-the-fresh-graduate/
https://aforgottenmuse.wordpress.com/2017/08/11/rant-no-1-the-fresh-graduate/#respondFri, 11 Aug 2017 06:41:33 +0000http://aforgottenmuse.wordpress.com/?p=1285]]>I’ve been yelled at for most of my life about getting my priorities straight. I’ve been called “insincere” at parent-teacher meetings in school. I’ve been told to “get serious” by countless tuition teachers (yes, we’ve all given IIT-JEE, boo-hoo). I’ve been told by my (well-meaning and absolutely perfect) parents to “focus” on what’s “important”, which always translated to better grades, a better college, a better job etcetera, etcetera. At the unforgiving corporate environment, I’ve been told to perfect what is expected of me (hint: everything is) and more. And of course, I’ve been told not to write till 2 AM on a weeknight and turn up late for work.

As you can probably guess, I’ve still done mostly everything my way but I do try not to let anyone down. Good grades, sure. Good college, you got it. Good job, time will tell. But when does the nightmare end?!

What is with us and our endless thirst for success? As a kid, it’s homework till you graduate school. As a grad student, it’s papers and exams till you wear the funny hat. As an employee, it’s…well, it’s taxes and overtime and a living hell till you die. Is there any real point to any of this? Were we just made to die trying to afford that holiday to Europe (and probably never accumulate enough casual leave to go on it)? Some days, I genuinely do feel that’s the only way to go. On better ones, I remember words like “fun”, “family”, “love” and “getting a life”. I may sound repetitive, whiny and quite like a spoilt brat who’s never had to lift a finger let alone earn a living. The latter is most definitely true, but I digress.

It’s the oldest question in the industrial world: how do you manage to have a life while still being good at your job? (I swear I will strangle the next person who tells me to “love what you do”.) What about family and friends? What about a love life that isn’t just on Tinder? What about not having to answer calls and emails after 6 PM because you’re playing fetch with the dogs? I may sound frustrated but what I am is a little sad and a little helpless. I know ranting about this will not help; I know whining just makes me an entitled little humbug. But when the world is running after success and ambitions and you just want to take a moment to appreciate what you have and curl up with someone you love, you’re bound to be asking the same questions; again and again, till they become a part of your regular vocabulary and you just become “that kid who’s too lazy/full of herself to work on a weekend” (in what universe is that wrong?).

As a race, human beings have always been prone to choose exactly that which is bad for them. Maybe it’s time we chose “ourselves”.

]]>https://aforgottenmuse.wordpress.com/2017/08/11/rant-no-1-the-fresh-graduate/feed/01-mTk5yCYyYiL7s7Ba4Cuxjgcrazydoglady0502For The Night is Lonely and Devoid of Conversationhttps://aforgottenmuse.wordpress.com/2016/07/27/for-the-night-is-lonely-and-devoid-of-conversation/
https://aforgottenmuse.wordpress.com/2016/07/27/for-the-night-is-lonely-and-devoid-of-conversation/#respondTue, 26 Jul 2016 18:40:10 +0000http://aforgottenmuse.wordpress.com/?p=1120]]>Nights are the toughest.

I’m afraid of the dark but flourish in it. I wouldn’t step out alone but would give anything to star gaze all night with a bff/bae. I shiver when the lights go out but love watching a city light up after sundown.

But if you’re lonely and all by yourself, nights are the toughest to get by.

Maybe it’s how they make you more conscious of your surroundings and yourself. How they make you think of all that you’ve done at the same time on different dates; the people you’ve shared them with. They remind you constantly of your solitude and nothing is as important to you then as to have someone to break the silence and snuggle up next to. The night makes the empty space on your huge bed ever-so apparent. Suddenly, you feel small and exposed and hide in your blanket, shivering, in a weak attempt to ward off the sorrow and anxiety.

Living alone is great, don’t get me wrong. To have your own defined space without intrusions is a luxury few can afford, or in this country, be allowed to have. Not having to adjust with a housemate and being free to cook/eat/watch TV in your underwear is a privilege. Living alone is great – just not so much when the same is true for life outside your front door, too.

Love is another variable which, when introduced into the equation, succeeds in further screwing it up royally. If you’re like me, you fall headlong and catch a truckload of feelings before you can say “watch out”. If bae’s been around since before you got lonely, everything just intensifies tenfold. Suddenly, you feel yourself wanting them around all the time. When they’re over, you can confidently say you’re “okay”. When they leave, it’s like the word “home” just got redefined. You reside no more in your apartment but in that person. This is great if your SO feels the same way; you complete each other like never before and moving in may even be on the cards. However, if said person is practical and sane, you’re more than likely to feel like the real-life embodiment of the Clingy Girlfriend meme. You’ll whine and cry and cling onto all he has to offer, resulting in the formation of a dependent, sad little mess of the independent person you were.

Not the most ideal situation, but they fail to understand that it isn’t in our hands. They shouldn’t be expected to, either. They’re not responsible for your happiness or wholeness. You are. No matter how much you blame your boyfriend for not calling up everyday, you gotta give it to the man when he listens to you rant about how your boss and your food and your life in general sucks. No one should be expected to volunteer to sit through that. If they do, you’ve got quite a catch, but that comes with doing the same for them and you’d be surprised at how quickly patience fades.

Yes, it’s hard. Yes, it’s lonely. Yes, you will probably cry through a Sunday evening and many more during the week. No, there will be no one to hold you while you sob and replace that box of tissues with their shirt. But life doesn’t come with a bulletproof vest or a shoulder to cry on. It won’t be long before he’s sick of your complaining; nobody likes a crybaby. You’re on your own in this unforgiving world and the sooner you realise it, the better.

Rain pitter-patters off the window. Flashes of lightning illuminate the unwashed dishes in the sink. Thunder booms overhead, not reaching past his earphones. They play some old song that reminds him of old times. He sits at the dinner table and stares into the distance.

Thinking.

Alone.

//5 PM. earlier that evening.

A chilly breeze blows through the streets. Pedestrians wrap their coats tight around themselves as they hurry past one another; each focussed on getting on with the evening, be it back home with their families or at the neighbourhood bar with the gang. Nobody notices the other. Nobody has the time.

He walks faster than most. A sense of purpose rests on his face like it’s been there for a while. He enters the grocery store, buys the same old bread, milk and eggs and walks out. The subway leads him to the same train that will lead him back to the same apartment he still can’t call home.

A family sits beside him. A young mother and her son. They talk of his father and of dinner. They talk of the school bully and the family dog. They laugh together. They seem happy.

It’s been ages since he laughed with someone like that, he thinks.

He gets off onto the platform and makes his way home, now walking a little slower than before.

//Midnight

The rain has become a mere drizzle. The thunder has stopped and all has gone quiet. His iPod now lies on the table, ears free of barriers. He has the look of a man who’d just remembered something he had forgotten existed. He has the look of a man who is close to admitting defeat.

He closes his eyes and sees the young mother and her happy son; only this time, the mother is someone he knows; knew, rather. He sure as hell didn’t know her any more. The visual brings back so much. Memories of her dancing while he awkwardly shook a leg; of them laughing over a plate of pizza; of them sitting and talking as though they had all the time in the world. He sighs deeply and wipes his eyes.

They had really thought they had all the time in the world.

//Midnight, in another timezone, across a few oceans

She stands in her balcony, staring at the lights. They’re always there – every night, without fail – to give her company as she sips her warm beverage from a chipped cup. This is her time, when she can be at peace with herself without the annoying voice of her far-from-pleasant roommate screeching of “workplace woes”. She can sip her tea in silence as she preps herself for another day of earning her living; another day of “following her dreams”. There are times he slips into her thought process but she usually blocks him out. After all, he was the one who gave up on them. He was the one who grew indifferent.

She pulls out her phone and searches for his latest display picture. A while ago, she realised she could do this without it hurting. He looks successful and happy; content even, for once. Not that he could ever be, she knew. He had a tendency to be unhappy about things, no matter how good they may be. And such people can never be happy, she had told herself; and they don’t make ideal partners, she had convinced herself.

She finishes the tea, throws the chipped mug in the trash and calls it a night.

//Epiphany

There are two broad kinds of people I like to classify humanity into: the thinkers and the action-takers. Some people put all their effort into thinking, be it for themselves or for their loved ones, and base all their actions collectively on that thought process. These are the visionaries, the emotional power houses. If you have one in your life, they will live for you; if they’re alone, they will be one of the mightiest forces the world would have ever reckoned with. The others are the impulsive ones, the spontaneous ones. These are the go-getters, the success-stories. They follow their instincts and do what seems best for their career, life and so on. They are people to be proud of and be inspired by. If you have one in your life, they’ll be the voice of reason you can rely on; if they’re alone, well, they flourish like they would have regardless.

I don’t think there is a good or bad type; it’s all about how you look at life. Some situations require a more practical approach while sometimes it would do you well to remember that we’re not meant to simply earn our livelihoods and die. All of the go-getters aren’t made of stone nor are all thinkers emotional fools. It is unacceptable to subdue all feeling and give up on romance just as it is to abandon reason and proceed recklessly.

Not that there’s any hope to strike a balance, either. We’re only human, after all; we’ll continue to chase what’s in the moment, always missing out on the bigger picture.

She was worried; distraught, even. Her heart could be heard pumping away like a little mine worker – blub, blub, blub – the muffled sounds vibrating through her throat, into her mouth and all up to her head. Even though the night was calm and welcoming, with all its cool and lack of sound, she couldn’t put herself to sleep. His little worker could also be heard beating away in tune with hers, right next to where she lay her head. His soft snores and mild beer-breath were oddly comforting. They were what she had come to associate with the word Home.

That was exactly what she was afraid of.

Things were ending. Term was nearly over; and not just any term. This would be the last one. The one that guaranteed them not coming back. The one that guaranteed there being no more chances, no more “I’ll try again next year”s. All that they’d taken for granted the past 4 years was about to be snatched from them…

…and there was nothing they could do about it.

It wasn’t just him, of course. He was but one of the many rickety pillars she had erected to help support the ever-crumbling platform of her life. There were other friends; there was the freedom, the nonchalance and the devil-may-careishness that came with college. There was the assurance that no matter what happened, it was all just an exam and exams can always be given again. “It’s just a bad semester. The next one will turn things around,” they’d always said; and it mostly did. But what was one to do if there was never to be a next semester to rely on?

He murmured sleepily and snuggled closer. She looked at his dark lashes and the moustache shrouding his slightly parted lips. How she would miss this sight. It’s often the simpler things that catch us by surprise; innocuous everyday actions that remind us how very human we are and thus, how very fragile. She landed a soft kiss on his lips and smiled as he hugged her tighter in his sleep. She wished that would hold true for life too.

The room was full of people they knew and adored: friends, brothers, even the odd sister. College is one of those times you come across the most important people you will ever meet in life, along with those not worthy of more than a shared cigarette. If you’re lucky, you might find a soul sister and hold them close forever. If not, you’ll still make it through with a group of people you could spend a whole day without wanting to strangle(which is saying a lot). One day, however, all of this will end. You will be left on your own, reminiscing about those carefree years, wishing it could be as easy to find a shoulder to cry on as it was in your first roommate.

Working life changes people. Grad school changes people. Moving away changes people. All in all, you will never have again what you have today, as you sit under that tree at the edge of the football field, laughing and playing cards. You’ll be reminded diligently year after year of that day by Facebook; you’ll see the picture, feel nostalgic for a while, probably share it and tag your friends with a little “<3”. But that moment has changed, those people have changed. Nothing is constant, all is temporary. Life is fleeting and if you don’t catch it, it’ll just flash before your eyes and disappear, like that metro you missed. Before you know it, it would’ve become a shiny beam of light and metal being swallowed into a tunnel and *POOF*, like that it’s gone.

Don’t let the tunnel swallow your light.

She caught herself staring at him and shook her head. What was to happen, would; whether that meant they would lie like that together for all their years or alone, in other beds, with other people. What mattered was that the future stood there with its doors wide open, welcoming them into a world of unimagineable possibilities and countless opportunities. She closed her eyes and held his hand.

It was time to take the plunge.

]]>https://aforgottenmuse.wordpress.com/2016/05/04/the-change-that-cometh/feed/01510749_835770529797640_5361151627992653463_ncrazydoglady0502(Un)Resolvable Differenceshttps://aforgottenmuse.wordpress.com/2016/03/23/unresolvable-differences/
https://aforgottenmuse.wordpress.com/2016/03/23/unresolvable-differences/#respondTue, 22 Mar 2016 20:36:46 +0000http://aforgottenmuse.wordpress.com/?p=701]]>There are times in life when a big red Stop sign is thrust into your face and everything comes to a screeching halt. The moment grabs you by the ankles, hangs you upside down and drops you on your head.

Or so would seem a plausible explanation for the utter psychological upheaval that characterises these events.

It was at such a time that she realised the true gravity of a supposedly harmless situation. She thought she knew him, but all along she’d been as far as possible from the truth. He didn’t think like her, feel like her, react like her, love like her; he was the exact opposite of everything she had ever thought herself to be. The exact antithesis of her own being. His world spun on a different axis, while hers waltzed wistfully on a stage of dreams.

Call it a conflict of interests or what have you, but the contrast was too stark to be ignored. She couldn’t fully comprehend that one could harbour affection with no want/need to express it. That what most would call “taking someone for granted” was actually just simple human nature. We are creatures of habit and she was used to being chosen over everyone else; used to the relentless pursuit. Shallow though it may seem, it was tough for her to accept his sudden prioritization of practicality over humoring her.

These are trying times. You feel your instincts fail you and you can’t look at anything the same way again. A quiet hurricane rages in your head while clammy hands pull you into the dark abyss of uncertainty where Chaos reigns.

But through the eye of the storm you see a glimmer of sunshine. A light that brings a sliver of hope and positivity.

If you value companionship over all your differences, you must do the seemingly impossible and let go. Let go of the budding romance you are so desperately trying to hold on to for fear of it turning stale. Everything seems inadequate compared to your head full of dreamy expectations and ideal situations, but that very inadequacy may be the most favourable course in reality. Any number of promise rings or white carnations will seem petty and insignificant in the grander course of things. For this grander course aims at nothing but a subconscious tranquillity; a prevailing state of contentment.

So what do you do when you realise you’ve fallen irrevocably in love with the very antithesis of your own being?
You simply smile and let go.

Why, she had no clue. Initially it had been coz she couldn’t sleep; there was so much playing on her mind. Gradually, her heart raced and the anxiety caught up. She sighed and got out of bed, knowing that a gentle stupor was the last thing she could achieve just yet. Glancing at her phone – whose fervent beeping she’d ignored about an hour ago – she walked towards the window and stared at the inky sky.

The moon shone through the darkness, illuminating the world with its glassy luminescence. Everything looked prettier. Everything was still. The world slept soundly and its gentle breathing drew her out onto the verandah. The cool morning air nipped at her bare skin; she could feel Winter tenderly caress her as it announced its arrival. The soles of her feet embraced the cold floor while joyous goosebumps erupted on her forearms.

There was something so beautifully pure about this cold, pale world that lay before her in monochrome; as though along with colour, it had been stripped of all worry and complications. It was a fairly simpler world – black and white scattered with a few shades of grey. As though all decisions taken here would be crystal clear and all choices made would be right.

Oh, to exist in such simplicity would be so…

…monotonous?

Her own thoughts took her by surprise, lifting a veil of false perfection. It revealed a world shrouded in darkness and despair; one that craved light and the life it instilled. The absence of colour made it seem forced and rigid – as though devoid of vigour and free will. Everything looked plain. Everything was lifeless. The silence that had then appealed to her now left her in want of commotion. She wanted confusion. She wanted chaos. She wanted the world to be raw and vulgar and unapologetically real. She wanted to be that world. She wanted to be in control, yet simultaneously flow down the unending river of self-discovery. She wanted to consciously let it all be.

Was that asking for too much? Was it practical? Did it even make sense? It didn’t matter, she realised. What did was that she had been looking at a thing of pure, crystalline beauty and seen past the disappointing facade.

Inhaling the cool air that now seemed to lack fragrance, she walked back into her room. She smiled and gladly curled up next to her demons, who welcomed her into the chaos with open arms.

]]>https://aforgottenmuse.wordpress.com/2015/09/28/moonlit-revelations/feed/0Moonlit-Night-04crazydoglady0502Why Wait?https://aforgottenmuse.wordpress.com/2015/06/15/why-wait/
https://aforgottenmuse.wordpress.com/2015/06/15/why-wait/#commentsSun, 14 Jun 2015 19:09:43 +0000http://aforgottenmuse.wordpress.com/?p=685]]>There are great days. There are not so great days. And then there are days that make you so inexplicably happy that you can’t contain yourself.

But more on that later.

I sit loosely strapped to my seat, completely ignoring the woman with too much makeup on who’s trying to make sure I know how to not die in case the airplane plummets out of the sky. Or lands on water. Or inexplicably runs out of oxygen. Considering recent events, that won’t even be too farfetched to consider. She does a weird enactment of putting an oxygen mask on yourself that looks more like she’s imitating an epileptic duck. I grudgingly pay a little more attention to her voiced aerobics session and feel sorry for the poor thing. She must be doing this at least twice a day, if not more: flailing her arms in front of people showing a complete lack of – or too much of – interest.

Just another job that works on the principal of appointing pretty women to please clients. I make a mental note to ask on the review form about the lack of male air stewards.

I look out the window onto what looks like a playground for gigantic machines. Fog is beginning to roll in, lending a strangely calming softness to the sharp edges and piercing lights. Metal wings outlined by the dreary twilight, looking like cybernetic birds. Tiny people run to and fro, engrossed in making the playground work. I am reminded of how that is what we all do: run to and fro, engrossed in what we think is most important. For some it is their work, for others their happiness and for further more, the happiness of others. Blessed be he for whom all three are the same!

There must really be people like that in the world. Lucky bastards.

I gaze distantly onto the tarmac, thinking of that happy, happy day. The conversations, the places, the people(person, truth be told, but let’s not let the cat out of the bag). Of words that are so kind, they are rare; of intentions that are so good, they are extinct.

I smile a certain smile that can be brought upon only by another. Of such smiles and good feelings, the world had grown short. It was nice to be reminded of their existence, if only to be denied of it not long after.

Too soon, life. Too soon. You have a way of making me wait. And when I wait, I deliberate. When I deliberate, I change my mind.

And I’d like to keep this one.

The big machine wobbled onto the runway, ready to soar gracefully and lead me into my chosen solitude.

“Delhi?! Oh my God, that’s such an unsafe city! How do you survive, Beta?! I would never send my *insert female relation* there! Bangalore must be paradise for you!”

Two weeks in, this is something I’ve heard from nearly every resident of this lovely(read: chaotic) city.

Once they greet you and ask you where you’re from, the reaction is pretty much the same. Their eyes widen; a look of intense pity adorning their face. Pity for this young girl who has the misfortune of residing in the “rape capital of India”(and if you’d believe the media, the world). Pity for her to live perpetually afraid of her surroundings. Pity for her to have not experienced the freedom and luxuries that their womenfolk experience in this fairytale land, where nobody would even hurt a fly and everything is hunky dory.

Except, really, it’s not.

Feminism(or feminazism) aside, I’ve always believed that personal security is your responsibility and yours alone. You are as safe as you want to be, regardless of which part of the world you’re in. You could be living in a beautiful small town in Europe with the highest Happiness-index or whatever and still be a victim of hate crimes against foreigners. You could be in the hinterlands of UP or Bihar and still come across a kindly auto-wallah who’d leave you securely to your doorstep in the middle of the night.

Blame the patriarchy all you want, but it isn’t really going to help your case. The world is no Utopia. It is out to get you, whether in the form of fate, disease, wild animals, or even your own brethren. Expecting people everywhere to share the same views and think of every human life as equally important and consequential is impractical, as is expecting everyone to be a monster. Whether saaddi Dilli or B’lore, if you’re careless and take your safety for granted, misfortune WILL befall you.

Bengaluru is a lovely city. It knows how to treat it’s young working class, all sexes alike. But then, so is Delhi. It’s breathtaking, full of life and has so much to offer. As a Dilliwala, I can say with conviction that the city is as good/bad to you as you let it be. You need to play it to your advantage and once you get the hang of it, it can be pretty darn great. For the women that live there, it may feel safer than the crowded streets of Karnataka’s capital, full of strangers talking in a foreign tongue; ’cause for them, it’s home.

I’m not saying Bangalore isn’t safe, or vehemently claiming that Delhi is. I’m just saying that sometimes, it’s not just people that are hurt by reputations.